Louder Than Destruction
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Imprisoned and awaiting her execution, Narcissa only hopes that Lucius will carry on and keep Draco safe. Meanwhile, Lucius has very different plans.:: Voldemort wins!au for Elizabeth


_For Elizabeth, via the Gift Tag (Lucissa, Voldemort wins)_

 _Word Count: 6051_

* * *

i.

She isn't surprised when they come for her. It had only been a matter time before someone finally put the pieces together and realized her betrayal. That night in the Forbidden Forest, Narcissa–tired, and afraid, and so desperate for this war to end so that her son could be safe at last–had taken a chance. She had been so sure that Harry Potter would defeat the Dark Lord, that this would all be over.

It had all been for nothing. In the end, Harry Potter had fought so hard, but it hadn't been enough. The Dark Lord is victorious, and the world seems to grow darker and colder every day.

They had tried to pretend and fall back into their routine, praying no one would notice. Narcissa hadn't actually believed that it would work, but she had played her part because what else could she do?

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius demands as Yaxley storms forward.

"Do not make this harder than it has to be, Lucius," the other man says calmly. "The Dark Lord only wants your wife."

"And he can have her over my cold, dead body!" Lucius snaps, reaching for his wand.

Narcissa can guess how this will end. There are too many Death Eaters in their dining room. Even if she and Draco joined Lucius in fighting them, it would never be enough. Three lives would be lost, and she cannot allow her family to die for her.

"Lucius, stop," she says, moving in front of her husband before he can cast a curse. "I am not a maiden in need of defending."

Her heart races. They're such strong words, but she holds herself to them. It doesn't matter that she is terrified; she is a Black, and Blacks cannot show weakness. She keeps her head held high, maintaining an air of dignity.

"Narcissa Malfoy, you are accused by the Dark Lord of the highest degree of treason," Yaxley says. "I hereby place you under arrest. You will be imprisoned until your trial."

Trembling, she turns to Lucius. "I'm sorry," she says. "I love you."

She wants nothing more than to hold him close and kiss him one last time, but Yaxley grabs, and she's ushered away.

"Take care of Draco for me!"

Her fate doesn't matter. If she has to die in order to keep her family safe, so be it. She will meet death with dignity.

…

Lucius still doesn't understand. Narcissa, _his Narcissa,_ is gone.

He had known about the betrayal, of course. She had begged him to run away with her before the Dark Lord realized. If he had listened, perhaps they would not be in this mess now. Lucius had allowed his pride to get in the way. He had told her that Malfoys don't run from anything.

"Father? I brought some tea," Draco says, entering Lucius' study. "I'm not sure that I made it properly… It just tastes like water."

Lucius accepts the cup, and he wrinkles his nose. The liquid inside is barely even brown. He suspects it will taste horrible. Shaking his head, he sets the attempt at tea aside and summons a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. "Drink with me, son."

Draco hesitates; he's never been allowed in the study for more than a few minutes a time. He looks around before finally taking a seat. Draco slumps forward, sighing heavily. Lucius considers telling him that Malfoys are meant to maintain perfect posture, but he doesn't have the heart for it. It has been a strange and stressful day for both of them. Just this once, Lucius can let it slide.

"It's my fault," Draco says softly. "Mother wouldn't have done what she did if she wasn't trying to protect me."

Lucius fills the first glass and pushes it toward his son. It would be so easy to blame Draco. Everything that Narcissa did, she did to protect him. But blaming him isn't right. Narcissa had made her choice.

He fills his own glass and takes a sip, relishing the burn of the liquor.

"What do we do now, Father? They'll kill her."

Lucius inhales sharply. He's tried to deny that. He's almost convinced himself that everything is okay, that nothing will happen to Narcissa. It isn't true, of course. The Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to betrayal. The fact that she is Lucius' wife makes it worse. The Dark Lord will make an example of her and remind everyone that their family names cannot protect them.

Lucius gulps down the last of his drink before refilling the glass. He wants nothing more than to finish it off, but he can't. He has to think about his family. Draco needs him.

"We backed the wrong side," Lucius says softly.

He hadn't realized it until recently. It had been so easy to mindlessly hate Muggles and Muggleborns; his father had taught him that hatred, and he had been proud to pass it along to Draco. The war had changed that. He had learned what fear is, what it's like to come close to losing everything. He still has his prejudices, and it will take some time to work past that, but he has come to realize that the Dark Lord is not the answer. Unfortunately, his disillusionment has come too late.

"Father?"

Maybe it isn't too late. Lucius sets the glass down, studying the contents within. It's a mad idea, and he thinks he must have finally lost his bloody mind to even consider it.

"Father?"

The war is over, and the Dark Lord has won. But that isn't the end of the story. The Order of the Phoenix is broken, but it still exists. There is still a rebellion that is actively fighting. If there is a chance for Lucius to save Narcissa, it lies with them.

"We must join the rebellion," Lucius says with a sigh. "It isn't ideal, but I believe it may be our best choice."

It won't be easy. The fact that they've gone underground is the least of his worries. He is still a Malfoy. Why would anyone trust him?

Draco taps his finger against his glass. It doesn't look he's drank any of it. "I think I might know someone who can help us with that."

Lucius raises his brows, both surprised and proud. Draco has learned to maintain a varied network of acquaintances. He has truly taught his son well. "Excellent. Shall we begin?"

ii.

Narcissa isn't sure where she is; they had blindfolded her for most of the journey. All she knows is that she isn't in Azkaban; she hadn't heard the familiar raging roar of the sea when they had transported her.

She doesn't know how much time has passed. Meals come at strange times, and she hasn't actually seen anyone since her arrival here.

The room is damp and cold and windowless. Perhaps she is somewhere underground…

Narcissa leans back with a groan. She might go insane if she keeps this up. At first, it had been almost comforting to try and solve this great mystery. It had kept her brain active and prevented her from slipping into a panic.

Now, however, it's just a reminder of how hopeless the situation is. No one is coming for her. Lucius will do the smart thing and save himself and their son, and Narcissa doesn't have any other connections beyond them.

Maybe she's at peace with her death. The world has fallen apart, but Draco is still safe. What more could a mother want?

She climbs to her feet, wincing as her bare skin scratches against the cold, rough stone floor. Pacing doesn't help much either, but it reminds her that she is still alive, that she can still move. She paces the length of her cell quickly. It takes only four steps before she reaches the other side, but she does it again and again.

Her vision blurs, and she blinks rapidly, trying to clear it. When is the last time she's eaten? She can't be sure. Everything seems to melt together into one confusing jumble.

The door opens, and Narcissa freezes. In the back of her mind, she almost dares to hope that Lucius has come for her. That thought quickly fades when Alecto Carrows enters the room, lips pulled back into a grin that reveals her crooked, yellowing teeth.

"Didn't think we forgot about you, did you?" she asks with a sneer as she closes the door behind her.

Narcissa trembles. Armed, she might be able to hold her own against the other woman. Narcissa has never been much of a duelist, but Bellatrix had insisted on teaching her to fight. As it is, though, Narcissa's wand has been taken, and Alecto is one of the most sadistic witches to ever exist, second only to Narcissa's fallen sister.

"Scared?" Alecto laughs and raises her wand. "You weren't too scared to betray us, were you?"

Before Narcissa can answer, Alecto hits her with the Cruciatus Curse. Narcissa screams, and her knees buckle. She collapses in a pitiful heap. Her elbow cracks roughly against the hard floor, bringing tears to her eyes.

"Did you cry for your sister when she died?" Alecto taunts, roughly kicking Narcissa's side. "If you hadn't tried to help Potter, she might still be alive."

Narcissa closes her eyes tightly. Alecto switches between curses and physical force until Narcissa cannot move. Her body feels like one massive bruise, and her throat is raw and sore from screaming. She doesn't know how long it lasts, but it feels like an eternity before Alecto finally steps away. Without another word, she disappears, leaving Narcissa alone once more.

She doesn't try to pick herself up. The pain is too great, and all she can do is lay there and sob. She thinks her arm might be broken, and one of the cursed slashes across her stomach won't stop bleeding, but she doesn't complain.

Draco is safe. Her own happiness means nothing in the grand scheme of things. She will gladly suffer if it means keeping her family safe.

With a smile, she closes her eyes.

…

Lucius doesn't like this. It had taken Draco a long time to get in contact with his connection–who Draco insists he can't name–and it makes Lucius uncomfortable. The fact that they're supposed to meet the person at a Muggle shipyard just puts him on edge even more.

"Are you sure we can trust this person?" Lucius asks.

"I would trust her with my life."

 _Her._ Lucius is curious, but he doesn't press it. There are more important things at hand. "With your life?" he echoes with a roll of his eyes. It's such a cute but ridiculous sentiment. "You may very well do exactly that."

He checks his pocket watch and scowls. The person should have met them here twenty minutes ago. If they're expected to trust this person, she could at least be punctual.

He's about to give up and tell Draco that it's hopeless, when he notices sudden movement in the shadows. Lucius raises his wand, but someone shouts, " _Expelliarmus!",_ and it goes flying from his hand. A second spell, and Draco loses his wand as well.

"Urgh. You didn't tell us we were meeting _Malfoy_ here."

Lucius recognizes that voice. When he looks up, he isn't surprised to see the all-too-familiar Weasley red hair. The youngest son… What is his name? Roland? Ralph?

"Would you have come if you'd known, Ron?" a new voice–female this time–asks.

"Don't start bickering, you two." Arthur Weasley steps forward, and Lucius tries his best not to scowl; if he isn't civil, he could ruin everything. "Lucius. I heard about Narcissa. I truly am sorry."

"I don't want your pity," Lucius says dryly. "I want your help."

Arthur chuckles, but there's no humor in the sound. "You must truly be desperate," he says sadly. "Daphne, return their wands, please."

Lucius recognizes the girl when she comes closer. Daphne Greengrass. Her family have always been less traditional, but Lucius never thought he would see the day a Greengrass would choose to fight against other Pureblood families. She offers him a soft smile as she holds out his wand. "Sorry about that," she says. "Just a precaution to make sure you can be trusted."

Ron scoffs, and his cheeks flush a deep red. "How do we know they _can_ be trusted?" he demands. "They're Malfoys!"

"And Narcissa Malfoy defied the Dark Lord and bought us a lot of time during the battle," Arthur says, his voice firmer than Lucius has ever heard it. "Right now, our differences don't matter. She helped us, and the least we can do is honor that."

Lucius doesn't know how to respond. Hearing Arthur talk about Narcissa with such reverence is bizarre. All he can do is offer him a nod of gratitude.

"We need to get back to headquarters," Arthur adds. "Kingsley will want to have a word with you, I'm sure."

iii.

She is weak and breaking. Time doesn't seem to exist at all, and nothing makes sense.

Narcissa sits on the damp floor, resting her head against the wall. Her clothes are stained and tattered, and her once silky blonde hair is tangled and knotted. She doesn't care anymore, not really.

She lifts her arm and winces. Her wrist is broken from a fall, and her elbow is sprained. Just when she thinks she might have a chance to heal and be whole again, the door opens, and the pain begins all over again. By now, she's lost track of all the times Alecto has come for her. Sometimes Alecto isn't alone; she and Amycus take turns tearing her apart until she is paralyzed from the pain.

Her nights–if they are nights at all; she still doesn't know how quickly or slowly time is passing–are plagued with nightmares. Even when Narcissa closes her eyes, she can still see their grinning faces and feel the pain find home in her bones.

The door opens, and Narcissa doesn't bother to move. Fighting it doesn't work. Maybe giving in and not resisting will help.

The pain doesn't come. Narcissa glances up, but she can't make out the person's features. Their face is obscured by an emerald green robe. The only distinguishing feature is the Dark Mark that peeks out from beneath his sleeve.

"I'm sorry you're having to to through this," the man says, kneeling beside her.

She recognizes that voice but can't quite place it. Then again, their home has had so many Death Eaters come and go over the last few years. Of course his voice would seem familiar.

"I can't heal your broken wrist," he says, and his pained tone catches her by surprise. He seems to genuinely mean it. "They might suspect something if it's suddenly fixed. Soon, okay? I promise."

"Who are you?"

He laughs. "I guess you can say I'm a fan."

It doesn't make sense, but she doesn't bother to question it. What's the point? It feels like nothing is real anymore, and everything is meaningless.

"Why won't they just let me die?" she asks.

The stranger inhales sharply. "I…" He clears his throat. "I don't know what they're planning. But your husband and son need you alive. Don't you dare give up."

"Lucius has moved on. He's smart."

The tense silence that hangs between them stirs something within her. Ignoring the pain, Narcissa sits up, applying too much pressure on her wrist. She hisses, and bursts of white light flash before her eyes, but she doesn't care.

Lucius hasn't given up on her? Is it really possible? She had assumed he would be wise and protect himself. That would mean denouncing Narcissa and carrying on with his life.

"What has he done?" she asks.

There's a part of her that had never stopped hoping, but it feels so impossible. Lucius shouldn't be waiting for her. He should take Draco and run.

And yet she can't be mad at him. This is the first flicker of hope she's felt in such a long time. A smile tugs at her chapped lips, and she feels the skin crack and bleed. Her fight isn't over yet.

"I've already told you too much." He pulls out a pocket watch. "I must go."

She wants to protest and keep him with her to ask more questions, but she knows it's no use. With a sigh, Narcissa lays back again, but she doesn't feel quite so miserable.

When the door opens later and the Carrow siblings come for her, it's easier to handle the pain. This won't last. There is hope for her, and everything is going to find a way to fall into place.

…

"I thought you might be hungry." Arthur holds up a small platter with sandwiches and an aromatic onion soup.

Lucius' stomach growls, but he glares. "I am perfectly capable of getting my own food," he says sharply.

"And yet you're just sitting here, obsessing over the blueprints our bloke on the inside brought us."

Lucius scowls. It's true. Ever since the plan first hatched and this mysterious double agent provided a detailed map, Lucius hasn't been able to think of anything else. He knows Kingsley is waiting for something, but he's so sick of waiting. All he wants to do is storm the bloody place, take his wife, and run.

It isn't an option yet. That's one thing the Order has made clear from the start. They may want the same thing, but they don't agree with Lucius' urgency. It's a bit of a shock. Lucius is still so used to getting what he wants, when he wants it, simply by throwing his name around.

 _Malfoy_ doesn't mean much anymore, not among the Death Eaters, and not among the Order. He is little more than an average man, and he hates it.

All he can do is stare at the map, his eyes glued to the spot that's labeled as _Narcissa's Cell._

Lucius sighs and softens his expression. Snapping at Arthur won't do any good. Besides, the other man is just trying to help. Despite their rocky and volatile past, Arthur has proven to be a good man. He doesn't deserve to have Lucius be rude to him.

"Did Molly make the soup?" he asks.

Arthur nods and sits across from him, setting the platter down. "Her mother's recipe," he says. "Do you like it?"

"One of the best things I've ever eaten." Lucius lifts the little bowl and moves it closer. "If I had known your wife was such a good cook, I would have stopped by the Burrow for dinner."

Arthur winces. Lucius shouldn't have mentioned the Burrow; it's still a sore spot. After the battle at Hogwarts, some of the Weasley children had returned to the Burrow to pack. Death Eaters had anticipated the move. Ginny, George, and Bill had perished in the flames, and the home was no more.

Lucius clears his throat. "I suppose that would have been quite the sight to see," he says, dipping his spoon in the warm soup and lifting it to his mouth, sipping the broth. "A Weasley and Malfoy friendship."

Arthur raises his brows, eyes widening briefly in surprise. "Are we friends now? I always thought you only collected associates."

Lucius shrugs. It's a fairly accurate statement. His own father had emphasized that caring is a weakness, and friendship means nothing in the end. Lucius had been happy to believe him. Over the years, people have proven to be little more than pawns. Between the Malfoy name and his gold, Lucius has always been able to keep an arsenal of acquaintances.

He takes another sip of the soup, contemplating. "I've never actually had friends before," he admits.

Arthur laughs softly and leans back, studying him. "I suppose I should feel special, then. Thank you."

Lucius doesn't answer. He sets the spoon down and grabs a sandwich half from the pile. For several moments, he just stares at it, and his mind seems to drift far away.

"We're going to get her back, you know," Arthur assures him.

Lucius nibbles the sandwich. "Why would you?" he asks between bites. "She lied to the Dark Lord, yes, but what good did that do? Precious little Potter is still dead."

Arthur doesn't answer at first. His gaze drifts over the hideout's common area; Lucius follows his gaze. It's surprisingly harmonious. Some of the younger residents play while the older ones plan or train. Draco sits in the corner with Ron, Daphne, and Astoria, seemingly deep in conversation.

"You haven't seen it because you continued to play your part," Arthur says, "but your wife's defiance had a powerful impact on the rebellion. Our person on the inside was inspired by her actions."

"Still not going to tell me who that is?" Lucius asks.

With a shrug, Arthur turns his attention back to Lucius. "Only Kingsley knows, and we trust his judgment."

Lucius focuses on the man in question. He remembers Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry, but they hadn't been in the same circle of associates. Still, he's listened to Kingsley speak; it's so easy to trust him. "He would have made one hell of a Minister," he notes.

"You really think so?"

iv.

There's a fire that seems to flow in her veins. The hopelessness has faded, and there is only possibility and strength. Narcissa keeps her head held high as she watches the door.

They will come for her. They always do. Pain and punishment are the only things that are guaranteed, but she doesn't mind it anymore. Each curse, each strike remind her that she is still alive and there is still a chance that she will find freedom.

She hasn't seen the stranger since that day, but his visit has given her a renewal of optimism. Her nightmares are gone, and she only dreams of Lucius and Draco now.

Lucius hasn't abandoned her. Even though it isn't safe for him, he's still out there, and he will find her. She has to believe that.

The door opens, and she stands tall and holds her head high. It doesn't matter that she is wearing rags, and that her hair and skin are filthy. She is a Malfoy by name and a Black by birth; she will present herself with the same regal air she has been taught since birth.

It isn't the stranger who walks in, or even the Carrow siblings. Narcissa's blood runs cold, and she forgets how to breathe when the Dark Lord enters her cell.

How is she meant to act? During his stay at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa had been expected to treat him with the utmost respect. She had been terrified of him then. Maybe she is still afraid, but she will not bend or bow. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her posture further until her spine aches.

"Narcissa Malfoy," he says, his thin lips pulling back into a chilling smile. "We do not have to be enemies."

She doesn't believe that for a moment. It seems that he has nothing but enemies.

"You betrayed me, and I know that," he continues. "I was… most surprised by that. Lucius and Draco were not perfect, but they were loyal." He moves closer, and Narcissa backs up until she is flat against the wall. "I assumed you would show me the same loyalty."

He reaches out, and she cannot pull back. Narcissa hisses as his slender fingers wrap around her broken wrist. It had finally started to heal, but Alecto had continued the endless cycle of breaking it again and leaving her to suffer. She tenses, bracing for the inevitable _snap_ that will come.

"You have been punished enough," he says.

She wants to believe him, but she knows how he works. He had appealed to Draco in a similar way.

"I will let this be over. You will be free to go."

"What's the catch?" Narcissa demands.

His free hand shoots forward. He traces his fingers gently over her forearm. "You should have broken long ago. Not many can withstand the sort of torture you've endured. Bellatrix would have been so proud."

She doesn't know how that makes her feel. Although she had loved her sister, she knows that Bellatrix had been insane. Does she want to live in a way that would make her twisted, demented sister proud? Once, she might have thought so. Now, she isn't so sure.

"Take the Mark." His grip tightens, and Narcissa feels her broken bones grinding together.

She hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but the pain is too much. Her legs tremble from the sudden burst of pain that floods her body; somehow, she manages to stay upright.

"Join me, and all will be forgiven."

Narcissa shakes her head, her dull, limp hair thudding against her face. "No." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it wipes the smile off his face.

"It would be in your best interest to reconsider," he insists.

"No," she repeats, stronger now. "I will not serve you."

He releases her hand and takes a step back. Narcissa expects him to draw his wand and end it right here and now, but he simply lifts his hand. "Caspian! Amycus!"

The two Death Eaters obediently enter the room. Carrow isn't much of a surprise, but she hadn't expected Nott.

"Lead our prisoner to the courtyard," the Dark Lord says. "It is time the world knows what happens to those foolish enough to betray me."

…

This is it. Lucius can feel the adrenaline running through his veins as he falls in line with the others.

"Remember, this isn't a battle," Kingsley tells him. "This is a rescue mission."

Lucius nods. 'Right."

"We grab Narcissa. Our inside man will join us on the journey back," Kingsley says, addressing the small group of rebels who have been selected for this mission.

"You're sure this information is correct?" someone asks.

"Yes, which is why we need to be precise."

"Why?" Lucius asks.

Silence. Lucius suddenly feels uncomfortable. It seems that everyone else knows something he doesn't.

Arthur clears his throat and reaches out resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Today is… Well, you see…" A soft pink stains his cheeks. "Narcissa is set to be executed in twenty minutes."

Lucius shakes his head, trying to process this. His mind begins to swim, and he's afraid he might pass out. He's grateful for Arthur's reassuring hold on him; it may be the only thing that's keeping him from collapsing.

"Be strong," Arthur urges. "Your wife needs you. We're going to reach her in time, and everything will work out."

Lucius knows how dangerous that sort of talk is. When nothing is promised and everything is falling apart, optimism seems so foolish. Regardless, he can't help but to believe him.

"Let's go," he says.

The journey doesn't take long. Lucius isn't completely sure where they are, but he recognizes it from the outlines and maps he's studied for hours on end. A small crowd has gathered in the courtyard, and the group manages to blend in easily enough.

"Relax," Arthur whispers.

Easier said than done. Lucius sees too many familiar faces stationed around him. He had spent years fighting by their sides. It seems strange to know that they are his enemies today.

His eyes scan the crowd. The rebels have scattered so that they surround the platform. Each is careful to hide in the crowd without drawing attention to themselves.

Lucius takes a deep breath, hating the way he trembles as he inhales. It shouldn't be this difficult, but he is on edge. He wants nothing more than to storm the place and get Narcissa out of there. Having to stand around, not knowing what is happening to his wife, is maddening.

"There," Arthur says with a subtle nod, indicating movement.

Lucius sees them. Caspian Nott and Amycus Carrow stand on either side of Narcissa, leading her along. The Dark Lord Apparates onto the platform, and Lucius' blood begins to boil. How could he have ever served such a monster? Narcissa had been right to try and help Potter.

His former master begins to speak. Lucius doesn't really listen, but he picks up on bits and pieces. More and more smaller rebellions have been ignited by parents trying to protect their children. Narcissa is being heralded as a hero across the land. The rebellion ends here.

"Wait for the signal," Arthur says.

"What's the signal?" Lucius asks.

Arthur laughs softly. "No idea. They say we'll know it when we see it."

Lucius rolls his eyes. He's so tired of waiting, but he knows he doesn't have any choice.

"Let Narcissa's fate be a reminder to those who wish to defy me. Treason has no place in this new world." He moves closer–too close–to Narcissa. "Kneel before me, and your death will be a merciful one. The choice is yours."

Carrow releases Narcissa's arm and takes a step back, but Nott doesn't. Understanding dawns on Lucius. "Our inside man," he whispers.

As if to confirm, Nott raises his wand. Red sparks shoot from the tip, and Lucius and the others spring into action. There is chaos and shouting, noise and confusion, but Lucius doesn't let it distract him. The others will hold off the Death Eaters; all he has to do is reach Narcissa.

"Lucius!" There are tears in her eyes when she looks at him. "You waited for me."

"Of course course," he says, watching as Kingsley duels with the Dark Lord. He turns his attention to Nott. "We have to get out of here. Now."

Nott offers him a quick salute. "Follow me."

Escaping is easy enough. The others are too distracted by the uproar. Lucius only has to Stun a few guards as he follows Nott from the courtyard.

"There are certain points where it's safe to Apparate," Nott explains. "Sort of like Hogwarts."

"Yes," Lucius says impatiently, guiding Narcissa along. "I'm aware. Your job is to find the safe place, not explain it."

Nott laughs. "Good to see you haven't changed Lucius."

Lucius starts to respond, but his mouth hangs open, and his brows knit together. He really _has_ changed, and he thinks that maybe it's for the better.

v.

"It's okay, dear," Molly Weasley says, offering Narcissa a warm smile. "I won't touch it. It looks like a nasty break, so I imagine it must hurt."

"Dreadfully," Narcissa confirms.

Molly is true to her word. She doesn't grab Narcissa and examine her; instead, she carefully presses the tip of her wand to Narcissa's wrist and mutters the incantation. Almost immediately, relief sets in. The bones shift until they are neatly in place again, and the pain slowly begins to fade.

Narcissa tentatively tests out her hand, smiling when she is able to move her fingers with little strain. "Thank you."

Molly nods. "When you've raised as many troublemakers as I have, you _have_ to know how to heal," she says with a soft chuckle, though Narcissa can see the sadness in her eyes.

She remembers hearing about the tragedy. The Weasleys have lost four children during the war, and she can't imagine the sort of pain that must cause. Still, she doesn't know Molly well enough to say anything. All she can do is offer her a small smile and hope that it's enough.

"You look half-starved," Molly notes. "Don't worry, dear. There's still some chicken and vegetables left over from lunch. It'll hold you over until dinner, I hope."

Before Narcissa can respond, Molly begins to fix her plate. Narcissa stands there awkwardly, blushing. "I can fix my own–"

"Don't waste your breath, darling." Lucius appears at her side, smiling. "Molly will find a reason to fuss and fret. Just let it happen." He kisses her cheek. "You look better."

She feels better. Though she hasn't had time to enjoy a proper shower, she's bathed off, changed into clean clothes, and has even brushed a few of her tangles out. She isn't back to normal yet, and she may never be, but at least she's a step closer. At least it feels like there's hope for her.

"Here you are!" Molly sets the plate in front of her. "Don't eat too fast. It will make you sick."

Narcissa has the feeling that will be easier said than done. It feels like an eternity since she's eaten anything, and even longer since she's had something that might actually taste good. She takes a bite of the chicken, and a satisfied moan escapes her lips.

Everything is going to be okay.

…

Later that night, Lucius sits with Narcissa and Draco. Draco seems too occupied with his book–a gift from Astoria–to speak, but he sits as close to Narcissa as he can manage, resting his head on her shoulder. Narcissa sits, smiling to herself and moving her thumb anxiously over the teeth of the comb.

"You didn't move on," she says.

Lucius shakes his head. "Of course not. How could I?"

"It would have kept you safe."

He shrugs and reaches down, plucking the comb from her hand and setting it aside. "In case you didn't notice, we managed fairly well."

Narcissa looks over at him, narrowing her eyes. "You shouldn't have _had_ to manage," she says.

"I know."

For several moments, they sit in silence. Lucius has so much he wants to ask, so much he wants to tell her, but he doesn't want to overwhelm her. He's finally gotten his wife back, and he is content to sit in the silence and enjoy being a family again.

So much has changed. Things he never thought he'd care about are now important, and the things he has clung to for so long mean nothing. He smiles to himself and stretches out, wrapping an arm around Narcissa.

"So. Caspian," Narcissa says softly, breaking the silence and drawing Lucius out of his thoughts.

"Caspian," he echoes, nodding. "You sparked a revolution, Cissy. People are defying the Dark Lord in order to keep their families safe. I doubt even Albus Dumbledore could have rallied the troops the way you have."

Draco glances up from his book. "Theo is safe, isn't he?"

Lucius nods. "Kingsley has some members preparing a relocation mission," he says. He'll be here before the week is out."

His son nods and leans back, returning his attention to his book. Lucius studies him for a moment, smiling softly. Draco has never been the type to read for fun. It seems that Astoria Greengrass is inspiring some changes as well.

"I still can't believe you joined the rebellion," Narcissa says, shaking her head and laughing.

With a small smile, he leans in and presses a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. "Do you remember our vows?" he asks. "I vowed to do everything within my power to keep you from suffering."

"I remember."

In retrospect, Lucius has done a terrible job of that. He had been a fool for so long, blindly following the Dark Lord and assuming the cause would benefit him. It hadn't mattered that Narcissa had suffered, that their home had been invaded, that Narcissa had spent more than a year wearing a mask so that Lucius wouldn't be disappointed. Over the years, he's made a lot of mistakes as a husband, and he wishes he could find a way to erase those days.

It's in the past; as much as he wishes he could change it, there is no going back. Still, it isn't hopeless. Lucius knows that he can go forward. His past will not define him, and he will find a way to shape his own destiny.

The Dark Lord's victory had been a terrifying thing, but Lucius can't help but be a little grateful for it. Without it, he might have never changed. He might have decided to be like his father and continued to preach hate until his dying day. The circumstances are not ideal, but he will take them, and he will embrace the changes that they bring.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

And that is enough to carry him through this strange new world.


End file.
